Nicole Carraway
by crimsonsky132
Summary: One minor change can bear life and death to many, and perhaps Jay Gatsby outruns his treacherous fate. There are plenty of flowers in the garden, after all.
1. Chapter 1

**Nicole Carraway**

Perhaps he was lonely; with a lot on his plate he had barely noticed the cottage had been purchased, let alone who it's new resident could be. The SOLD sign caused great excitement, and while it was sturdy in the ground, his imagination galloped wildly around it. What other new money would join him in West Egg? Normally he paid little interest in business outside his own, but this was so close, almost in his grasp. Lost in his thoughts, he began composing an addition to his fantasy; a man like himself, looking for his long lost-

 _BRIIIING_

 _BRIIIING_

"Meyer Wolfsheim, sir." The butler announced, and he looked up, nodding at the older man. Picking up the line, he walked away from the window.

"Good day, ol' sport."

* * *

The buggy came to a halt most abruptly, and she fell forward in her seat with a soft laugh, catching herself on the armrest.

"My most terrible apology, miss!" The driver, a middle aged fellow exclaimed.

"Oh, don't fret! I'm still in one piece." She sang out. "As is your jalopy, sir." She pushed a stray hair from her face, and looked out to the lawn. It was beautiful. Large trees enveloped the small cottage, and wildflowers sprouted out without care.

"I must say, _this_ is the real McCoy, miss. Long Island is something special. Have you ever been here before?"

"If only…" she whispered, opening the buggy's door.

"Let me help you, miss." The gentleman offered, quickly rushing about to her side of the car.

"Baloney! I'm quite able, sir. But thank you." She offered a grin, almost jumping to the dirt ground. She brushed off her dress with grace, and spun around. Home sweet home.

"You're quite the cat, miss! Your husband must be very lucky." he jittered, setting her luggage next to her.

"Oh, me?" She looked up quickly, and he nodded. Shaking her head quickly, she continued, " I think you're mistaken, sir. I'm not wed, and I'm traveling alone. This is where I'll be residing, but it's only for the summer." He looked stunned to say the least. Most women, especially of _her_ stature, had been seen as arm candy to the men of New York.

"My apologies...yet again, I might add." He chuckled warmly, retreating to the car. "Enjoy your stay in West Egg!"

"Thank you again." She waved lightly as he drove off down the dirt road.

The wind tugged at her hair with ease, freeing loose strands to frame her face. The remainder of her brown locks were captured in a long, loose ponytail. Her soft pink lips were natural and her smile sparked enchantment, and her cheeks were warm in the sun. The glow of her green eyes could be matched with the complexity of fireworks on a summer night, entrancing to say the least, and were embellished with black mascara. Each movement she made was purposeful and well constructed, like a piece of art, and her green dress flowed loosely around her legs. She was quite the dame, able to compel heartless fiends, gamblers, and buyers alike. She just didn't know it yet.

In her excitement she sprang to the door, and bashfully took in her surroundings once again. Noticing her home was the most humble in West Egg, she decided to make the most of it. "Home at last." she breathed out quietly. She took a letter out of her purse, scripted with the words _'Do not open until you find home'._

It was her father's handwriting. He had passed away the year prior, and she didn't have the courage to open it until now.

 _I am with you every step you take. I am for you. You're going to do great things, and I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. Stay true, Nicole Carraway._

* * *

In the distance he saw movement; a jalopy driving off, luggage being tugged along, a _woman_ holding something to her chest.

"How interesting."

* * *

 **Thank you for taking the time to read this! As my first Gatsby fic, let me know what you think. The book was so eloquent, and the movie was brilliant; I hope I can do it justice. Let me know what you think, and I can only take credit for Nicole. Much love, -Crimsonsky132**


	2. Summer Nights

Chapter Two

 **Nicole's Pov  
**  
The following day I finished settling in, and humming to myself, I plopped down on the duvet and brushed out my hair. Not planning on going out, I settled on staying in my sleepwear and fell back onto my bed with ease. There's no trouble in taking a lazy day now and again! Not a moment later, the shrill call of the phone caused me to groan, and begrudgingly I scampered over to it.

"Miss Carraway." I answered, and on the other end I heard a delighted squeal.

 _"Nicky, my sweets! Is it absolutely true that you've made it to New York?"_ Daisy. I hadn't arrived but a day ago, and only called my mother to tell her I was in town. The thrill of loose lips spread like fire nowadays.

"Without a doubt, you never miss a beat, Daisy." I chirped, mimicking her tone. "I've just arrived."

 _"No doubt in pursuit of the arts! The next Picasso I imagine-oh you must draw me darling dear."_ She enthused. Truth be told I came strictly for business; a landscape painter straight out of Chicago, aching to see the country. I had visited the rocky mountains the year prior, and the golden coast some time back. Now it was my time to capture the essence of New York, how roaring the twenties had treated it.

"You know that's not my expertise," I paused, "but show me those gams and there's no way I can refuse!" I laughed, and she joined in.

 _"Oh, how I've missed you! I haven't seen you since the…"_ she drifted off.

"Since what?" I asked.

 _"Since my wedding."_ She murmured. _"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to beat my gums, I called to see if you'd like to come to supper!"_

"Sounds charming." I drawled out, and thought on it. "Let me get settled in though; how does Saturday sound?"

 _"Saturday it is. Seven o'clock! Oh-I must go! There's an ever entertaining golf tournament to attend. Bye Nicky!"_

"Bye." I whispered into the line, but she already hung up.

* * *

As the week neared it's end, I woke Thursday morning with a bustle; a knock on the door startling me awake. Throwing on my robe I tumbled down stairs, and swung the door open, squinting at the brightness outside.

"Sorry Miss, I didn't mean to cause such commotion." The voice was old and lighthearted, and adjusting to the light, I took in a well dressed man carrying a silver tray.

"Oh, no fret!" I smiled, adjusting to the lighting.

"I'm here to bring an invitation over to the house. Mr. Gatsby would like to formally invite you to his party this Saturday night; a welcome to West Egg.

"Mr. Gatsby?" I questioned.

"Yes, miss. He _is_ your neighbor." He added, pointing towards the house behind him. I had to take a moment and catch my breath. I finally had a name for man next door.

"I'd love to attend, but I'll be on the other side of the bay Saturday. Tell him I'm sorry, and that I'd love to another time. Maybe I'll happen upon him before then." I offered with a smile. It would have been rather nice to go... "I'm Nicole by the way." He returned my smile before turning down my steps, leaving the invitation on a ledge.

In a swift motion I grabbed the letter and sprung back inside. I must've looked a mess! And I have no time to waste! Today is bound to be a busy day. Throwing on a purple gown and putting myself together, I rushed from the house.

* * *

In the city I visited statues and libraries, and found myself in the Metropolitan Museum of Art around supper time. I had spent the day finding muses to fill the notebooks, and to pay the rent. The place was expansive and filled with surreal works of art. It was my cat's meow, and I found myself fawning after artists and their stylish works. As I was on my way out for the evening, the large doors at the entrance barreled open, and a haughty laugh filled the air. Turning my head, this man was surrounded by businessmen, and he himself was an older gentleman with greying hair and a scrutinizing gaze. He held power, and looked as if he could bump off anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Remind me to stay away. In that moment his dark eyes found mine and a grin plastered his face. A chill blasted through me; he gave me the heebie-jeebies.

"Good evening, miss. How does a lady like _you_ find herself in a place like _this_?" He was speaking like I needed an escort. Men.

"For work, sir." I chimed, pretending to be unfazed by this oaf of a man. "The more pieces of art I make, the more likely I'll find myself in a place like this." I finished, looking at the adorned walls. That seemed to satisfy his question.

"Then by all means, don't let me stop you." He grinned again, his yellow teeth jutting out. "My name is Wolfsheim. Meyer Wolfsheim." A gambler! My heart stammered, and he extended his hand to me.

"Nicole Carraway, sir." I said softly, nervously taking his hand. He kissed it, never taking his eyes off me. Another serious of goosebumps erupted over my skin. I needed to get out of here. "I must go. It was a pleasure, sir." I concluded, semi curtsying away.

"The pleasure is all mine." He nodded his hat at me, then returned to the businessmen surrounding him. "Now, as I was saying. This building is far too old. When I get the money I want to see it becoming my personal-" he walked away, and I quickly landed a jalopy to take me home.

* * *

I had a small dinner of chicken and oats, and proceeded to my blank canvasses. Time to make a masterpiece.

After nearly an hour I came up empty, and sat on the chair on my porch for fresh air. This is quite unlike me. I never fail to find inspiration. Sighing, I lounged back, looking over the bay. The night was beautiful with a slight nip in the air. The water was fierce, and the grass danced in the breeze. I lost focus, seeing a man appear on my neighbors dock, walking slowly and purposefully. I couldn't quite make out his features, but I noticed his hand extending, grasping out over the water. A light passed, a green light, and perhaps I was looking at what he aimed to grasp. I had to capture this moment, and in an instant I began to paint the scene in front of me.

This mystery man caught my interest.

* * *

Shivering, I startled up. I was freezing! My eyes slowly opened, and it was still dark outside. I must have fallen asleep. How clumsy, Nicky! Looking in the window, I could see the clock as it ticked towards one in the morning. The man was now gone from the dock.

Groaning as I moved to sit up, I stopped. A suit jacket had been draped over me. Someone had seen me asleep! Becoming more worried, I looked about...and my painting was gone.

* * *

 **This is mainly going to be written from Nicole's Pov, same as the book, but I like to throw in Gatsby tidbits now and again to add to his mystery. Leave a comment if you like, or message me to let me know what you think. My goal is to have this be the most...elusive of my stories, but give me your feedback. I only own Nicole. Without you, this fic wouldn't be possible. Love always, Crimson.**


	3. Gatsby, Jay Gatsby

Chapter 3

 **Gatsby, Jay Gatsby**

Saturday morning rose quietly across the bay, and Nicole was lost. Her thoughts hadn't been clear since that night, and she carried the jacket everywhere she went; it was more expensive than any of her wares. She fashioned a thin green dress over her sleepwear and decided to go for a walk; it would help to clear her daze.

Behind the cottage was a small grotto of low hanging trees, and she hadn't happened upon them before. Her shoes were sinking in the dirt, and smiling lightly, quickened her pace. It was long before the bustle of the weekend; not even eight in the morning. In this moment, she had nowhere to be. Next to a small landing, she spotted a staircase, and only pausing slightly, she ascended the steps.

Now Nicole knew she wasn't in Chicago anymore, but what she saw took her breath away.

"It's beautiful." She hummed, her hand hiding a small smile.

* * *

He hadn't been expecting company, but urged outside, he saw her again. Grinning slowly, he emerged from the shadows of the bar; she was locked onto the pool, and didn't register his presence.

"What a coincidence." He spoke up, and with ease her eyes glazed over to him. "I-" he coughed, regaining his composure. "I'm debating my own use of the pool this morning, and so are you it seems." He smiled, nodding in her direction.

"Perhaps if you had a less lovely pool, then I wouldn't consider it." she spoke so cooly.

As startled as she was, she didn't show it. This man caught her staring, and of all things, she didn't want to embarrass herself further. Without keeping her eyes locked on the man, she averted her gaze to the soft fabric in her hands.

He was impressed, and grinning softly, he pressed in further.

"Do you always keep your garments with such care, miss?" Cocking his head to the side, he admired how her hair fell around her frame. Long hair was long forgotten since the war, yet it licked at her body with grace. He found himself stepping forward slowly.

"Only this one, sir." Her long fingers tapped against the fabric and she mustered up the courage to glance up at the man through her lashes. She slowed, her gaze fixed to Adonis himself.

He was quite fetch, especially in a soft blue suit. His eyes were curious, deep pools reflecting the water in front of them. Suddenly Nicole was more aware of her own attire; she must have looked a mess! Her grey gown was worn, her shoes caked with fresh mud, and she hadn't taken the time to mess with her hair. What a joke she must've looked! She lightly tugged at the hair falling into her face and brushed it behind her ear.

Little known to her, Jay too lost his focus.

"It _is_ a lovely pool." she commented again, composing herself as best she could. "And it's a shame, I have a nice bath, but by no means does it compare to this." Nicole was surrounded in such beauty, and she felt rather small, all things considered. Breaking her trance, she heard automobiles hurrying up to the house, at least ten filled with boxes and boxes of who knows what.

"What's the occasion?" Her speech was fluid and hopeful, and he found himself twirling his ring about his finger.

"Consider it tradition. On weekends I throw large parties; all of New York makes an appearance." He smiled humbly, looking across his estate with an exhale. Putting two and two together, she stumbled upon her neighbors house! Expecting him to be much older and much less dashing, Nicole didn't know how she managed to get herself into such a mess!

"I received your invite, Mr. Gatsby." Nicole met his gaze, blushing mildly. He looked at her with a wide grim, taking note of the use of his name. "I'm bound to be across the bay this evening, otherwise I wouldn't miss it." She added quickly.

"There will be plenty of parties, nothing to worry about, miss...?" He waited.

" _Carraway_. Nicole Carraway." She spoke with confidence, edging closer to the greenery.

He knew what her name was, he just wanted to hear her say it aloud. Jay, for the first time in a long time, found himself not thinking of the flower he had spent years trying to chase. He had tried to learn about Nicole, but found very little. The name hadn't hit any leads yet, and he hardly knew how to talk to her in this moment. Finally face to face after curiously lurking in the shadows of his home. He took a moment longer to look at her, the sun shining over the ridge dancing across her skin, before finding words.

"It's nice to meet you," he paused, " _neighbor_." he emphasized. "And as you know, I'm Gatsby, _Jay Gatsby_. In case you find yourself home sooner than you think, you're welcome to swing by. The party goes from all the way up the block and way out to my pier at the bay." And as he stole her attention, Jay pointed out over towards the water; the same way he had overlooked the water nights ago.

A light burst on in Nicole's mind, and she clenched the overcoat a bit tighter. She had her suspicions, with Mr. Gatsby's nice pool and fancy wardrobe, but as he pointed over the bay she was unmistaken. He had been the man in her painting, the man who had covered her up. The man who had _taken_ her work!

"The wind must make that water cold at night _Mr. Gatsby_." she cooed, inching a bit closer. Jay had taken notice, raising a brow. "And even in these warmer nights, how on Earth did you make it home without your darb coat?" It was Nicole's turn to raise a brow. Jay slowly grinned ear to ear, catching onto her game.

"Oh you're quite right. I was out on a nightly stroll, and it was beside me to help welcome the new resident in town the only way I knew how. I hope it helped." Nicole nodded, and moved to hand Mr. Gatsby back his coat. He interrupted long before she had the chance. "Oh, no need for that. You see, I don't feel entirely right taking it back. You were working on a truly... _memorable_ piece of work that night, and I'm afraid I couldn't leave without it."

"So, you liked my painting?" She asked pointedly, cocking her head in his direction. He admitted to taking her work! Looking down, Jay looked into the pool water, watching the reflection ripple out in little waves.

"I'm afraid I wanted to admire it a moment longer." He looked back up to her, trying to understand how she had captured exactly what he was longing for. Lost in thought, he looked up, back over the bay. The mist had cleared, and Gatsby was able to see the cursed house off in the distance.

"If that's the case, it's yours." Nicole's response surprised the both of them, and after locking eyes quickly, she coughed to compose herself. "After all, I'd love to finish it. That means I'll have to come to one of your parties." He paused.

"Indeed it does." Jay agreed. He opened his mouth again to speak, but was interrupted by a third party. Gatsby's butler had appeared quietly off towards a connecting shed, and cleared his throat to catch the attention of both Nicole and Jay.

"Excuse me, Sir. _Detroit_ is on the phone." Nicole took note of Mr. Gatsby lightly clenching his fist before running a hand through his hair. Turning back to her, she caught on to the lowered grin faltering, and he looked up to her, her eyes curious.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Carraway. It was a pleasure." He bowed his head slightly, turning away from her. Stunned, she stood there, watching him checking a time piece in his pocket before casting one last glance at her. She waved at him before descending the steps, and finding her ankling back to the cottage, Nicole found herself on her couch, deep in thought.

"Oh, applesauce." She chimed, looking down. She was clutching tightly to the coat, not realizing it until Gatsby was long gone.

* * *

Thank you for your patience and support, and ever always!

Crimsonsky132


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